Evanescent (18 page)

“I’m sorry about the general,” I said, taking Troy’s hand in mine. The desperation of keeping skin contact with him had become like a need, a need of the stillness he instilled within.

“It’s not your fault,” he said. “I guess he wasn’t as careful as he had thought.”

I swallowed the pain I felt in my chest, mistakenly thinking it was sorrow for yet another loss in our quest, but would soon realize the truth and poison behind Enoch’s words – guilt would be my downfall; remorse drove my disease, fueled it. Nonetheless, I welcomed any feeling over nothing. Tucking his hand into mine under my gray cloak for comfort, I kept my hoodie drawn to restrict my
peripheral
vision of the beach, somewhat saddened I had to be in hiding from the one place that was once my hope for freedom. The Minoans were not so pleased with all I had done anymore, and the sight of me was now labeled as a curse. The chief had turned them against Anaya, Kronan and any Truth Seekers of the prophecy who had brought evil to their village. Now we were a danger to secrets that made them pure.

“So, our fight at the general’s place and my presence in the dorms didn’t set things off, didn’t alert the Council?” I finally begged for the truth.

Troy
’s lips pursed together, trying to be as gentle as he could.

“It might have played a part, yes, but it was bound to happen anyway. Perhaps it was a good thing it happened sooner rather than later, because a great number of lives were saved.”

I held my tongue. If lives were saved, how many had we lost?

Waves rolled over pink and black coral, washed up green and gray seaweed strewn over the creamy beach sand. Our boots cracked over shells of spat out sea creatures. Small black boulders thrown to shore – a sign a storm had hit the oceans hard the previous night.

Troy
kept our hands bound, perhaps knowing why I needed him so close to me all the time. He smiled, a gentle twist to the curve of his mouth. The horse neighed and started kicking the sand beneath her front hooves. I stared past him at the sky’s reflection in the shallow waves as it pulled, and pooled on the sand. Visual echoes of dark, gray clouds cut like fingers into a canvas of a colorful day that might have been perfect in another time. I would miss the Minoan village and its serene magic, the views, the beach, the twinkle of enchanted chimes scattered in trees as wind scooped up the musical shapes. All I could think of was how I was losing everything I had ever wanted. More than ever, I was a prisoner. Bound to a prophecy I splendidly screwed up.

“You will figure it out,” Troy said, stroking my cheek upon seeing my frustrations painted all over my face.

Tatos came in behind us. “We are ready,” he said to Troy, in a tone that was flat and very much ridden with bitter sorrow. How does one leave everything you’ve ever known behind?

“It is not forever, I assure you that,” Tatos answered my thoughts, his hand resting on my shoulder. I kept Troy’s hand in mine. I took in the false sense of calmness of Silverwood Cove. Something was coming, it buzzed beneath my skin, and I wished we could have stayed a moment longer to protect the village. But the protection they now needed was from me.

“Troy?”

He turned to meet my concerned eyes, met my anticipated question with a gentle stroke to my upper arm. “There is no way the Council will find them, our friends will be safe for a while.”

“I need to know where they are,” the words jumped out of my mouth in an almost interrogating way.

“I’ll take you to them when we return,” he simply said.

“You are not going to tell me,” I stated harshly.

His silence was met with a sharp confused glare.

Morning pierced through gray clouds, casting long shadows on the sand before me, trees whispering their goodbyes in the slight breeze of the unfamiliar journey before us.

“Easy girl, easy girl,” Willard said to the horse as she became unsettled.

“Where is Doner?” I asked him, referring to his white and brown patched horse.

“With my family, they might need her.” He rubbed the gray horse, staring distantly at the shine of her pelt.

Rion held Maya’s horse steady, slowly turning in circles to keep the horse from running.

“She is here,” Kronan announced.

Troy
smirked. I had never expected what emerged from the water. A giant metal and wooden ship, not at all like submarines as depicted in Earth movies. Something almost antique looking, made up of massive tinted windows, bronze, gold and silver metal intertwined together to form an artwork of symbols, gadgets, and huge doors. I turned, looked to Anaya as she, Willard and a few younger Minoan warriors made their way to the tiny strip of docks, fishing canoes decorated in blue and white patterns lined up, bobbing in gentle waves. Troy whistled loudly, and waved in calling. A handful of military students and volunteers made their way from behind the rocks’ shadows; all wearing gray hoodies, hoping that their identities remained secret a little while longer. Perhaps the Keepers would write them off as dead – one could only hope. I noticed one of the boys had a bandage on his right hand – a sign he’d been debugged, tracker removed, committed fully to being introduced to the world of emotions and feelings, to being as human as he could be, or die trying. Anaya took her beads from around her neck and like Kronan, twirled them around her wrist. She patted the horse carrying Maya, the one Rion was guarding. “Let us go, the sun is rising quickly in these late summer days.”

Rion winked at us from the back of his horse, holding Maya’s head to his chest as he turned, the hood of her coat, one identical to mine, hung over her eyes. I stared at her perfectly shaped lips.

“Can’t you read her mind?” I asked Anaya, as we walked toward the docks. But I already knew the answer. Arriana was the only one, she knew the backdoors of the mind, the knowledge of how to push and pull any mind entrapped in complex spells; hers was a given talent, not one learned or taught.

Kronan and Troy carried Maya steadily into our tiny canoe that would take us to the submarine carrier. I stared into the water, closing my eyes and fighting the dreadful memory the motion of the canoe brought back, like a cut to my gut. I would never forget. Troy grabbed my hand. I looked up to him, and my memory faded as I kept my stare on his gentle, hazel eyes. “The past shouldn’t matter anymore,” he whispered in my ear. He always knew what to say.

My jaw tightened. Just about anything would bring back a memory of my former self when I tried to distinguish myself from that which made me vulnerable to the Shadowing disease. I leaned into his neck, losing myself in his scent and touch until we were hoisted onto the giant submarine carrier. Our boots clambered on the solid, dark, wooden deck. I could hear the trotting of Tatos’ and Willard’s horses echoing over the hull. It all felt so surreal, without me wanting to digest what was actually about to unfold hours away – war. I sank my back against the metal railing of the extensive ship. Robert, David, Greg and Shane, stood staring in the direction we were headed. Our Minoan circle of warriors took my sister below deck, sweeping through the ship one last time for any signs of witchcraft, or tracking devices. Troy stayed with me and Willard, but I had the sense he would much rather have been the one to scan the ship. Groups of people started to settle in. And once the ship pulled away, the giant pang in my stomach threatened to steal my breath. It was really happening. I turned, pushing my gut into the railing, trying to force the anxiety and disbelief out. It was becoming apparent that Troy’s effects on my feeling ability were growing in proximity. I stared at the distance between my hand and his on the railing. A good two feet separated us, but my insides were still alive, my skin just feeling the cold, hard, balustrade. The fast rising sun burned through mist on the beachfront and reached into the shadows of the forest. As I turned away, my eyes caught two figures standing on the rocks at the forest’s edge of the receding land. At first, I thought it might just be an illusion cast by the glint of the silverwood trees. But, unmistakable blue and purple feathers twirled in the wind. I knocked Troy’s arm.

“What is it?”

I pointed to the spot, but they were gone in a flash.

“I thought I saw something.”

“What?”

“Two people.”

He stared at me, pulling the information from me with a glare.

“Minoan, one figure smaller than the other.”

“They could have been mine or Rion’s family.” Willard came to stand behind me.

“Perhaps,” I said remotely, but I did not think it was, their stares, their bodies were rigid and intruding.

With the shoreline behind us, the sun had risen to full morning. Troy’s hair clung to the sides of his face and neck from the ocean’s fine spray. Robert’s green vest, stained dark with sweat, clung to his body; rock hard abs and chiseled chest like a liquid silk. As Greg walked past, his potent body odor made me feel ill, as did the ship’s swaying over huge restless waves, only intensified by the foreboding anxiety. And although my skin could not feel the peak of a blistering heat wave, my insides baked.

“I think I am going to be sick,” I said, suddenly swaying.

I leaned back over the railing, my face resting in my hands. Troy pulled back my hair and I twisted out of his reach snapping cautiously, “Don’t touch me.”

“Sorry,” he pleaded with indignant eyes. “Are you going to be okay?”

Suddenly it was all too much, me hiding the damn tattoo, the feelings, the thoughts, the darkness creeping back in as my instinct ardently tried to protect its vessel.

“Do you need to go lie down for a while?” Troy asked softly.

I nodded and turned, watching with intent and horrid gloom as apprehension twisted in everyone’s eyes, the dark look of dread burning behind their gazes. About forty military students; seven members of the Jaguar gang; a handful of Minoan warriors, and about fifteen student volunteers stood quietly and motionless awaiting the onslaught.
That
was our army, our forces against Enoch and his droids, against the Council and their drone militia? There was no way we could win. The epiphany became truth and somewhere, a part at the back of my twisted, disease ridden mind – made me revel in it, in our swift death, we would all finally be free of this so called life. Never in a million years would I have guessed to live in a time where the fate of the planet, the future, a rebellion in the making, was so small. Heck, a few months ago I had no idea how intoxicating, seductive and destructive emotions could be. However, my pre-requisite need for self-preservation and instinct turned my mind defensive, seeking and gathering information for something, and it compelled me in ways I struggled to control.

“Tell me about Legentium,” I blurted out suddenly.

Kronan turned with startling, judging, inquisitive eyes.

“Please.” I corrected my attitude.

“He is the last soul reader – one of the very first ancients.”

“He is also the prophet of this quest,” Tatos interrupted.

Upon my blank stare, Anaya filled me in on its meaning. This Legentium was the one who foresaw the prophecy, the one who carried the handbook, in a manner of speaking. I felt betrayed somehow at the knowledge they had kept from me.

“Not many people know of him,” she said, trying to reassure me.

My voice peaked in anger. “You mean to tell me we had someone who could set us straight, who could have prevented all of this and you didn’t think to take me there, or to leave my dying body and go seek…”

Kronan stopped me mid-tantrum. I sobered upon seeing Troy’s smirk grow at my outburst.

“It’s not that easy. We cannot just take you there, not when you had the ancestral spirit in you, and definitely not now.”

“Why?”

“It is forbidden,” he said, curt and to the point.

I stared at them in disbelief, at how they always do as they are told. How they did not think it – to save lives by their contempt of rebellion?

“Why are you smiling?” My eyes narrowed on Troy.

“Hey.” He gestured, arms up and palms out. “Not my fault – theirs, remember?”

I sighed.

“You ever think about why I was never at your resurrection?” he added.

I turned away from them all, totally feeling the bite of nausea hit my stomach.

“I need to see Legentium, it’s urgent.”

“The journey is a very dangerous one, one that would take a very long time.”